


when all is lost, then all is found.

by SecondhandLovers



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Found Family, Frohana (Disney), Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondhandLovers/pseuds/SecondhandLovers
Summary: “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you travel with ice harvesters as a child?    Why didn’t you live in an Arendelle orphanage?”Kristoff just shrugs.  “Because there isn’t one.”---The royal family establishes the first orphanage in Arendelle, and the children are not the only ones who find a home within it's walls.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Frohana - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 118





	when all is lost, then all is found.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this isn't too messy, my brain would absolutely not let me rest until this idea was out of my head.  
> But then again, life is messy, and I hope this fic means as much to someone else as it does to me. <3
> 
> The story begins post-canon of Frozen 1, and spans over time to the events post-Frozen 2.
> 
> \---

Arendelle has always prided itself on being well-run kingdom, fortunate enough to have an abundance of resources, plenty of trade, a fairly stable economy, and residents who rarely disturb the peace.

Which is why it comes as such a shock to Anna and Elsa when, in a conversation with Kristoff, full of quiet admissions and tales of their childhood, the topic comes up:

“If you don’t mind my asking, why _did_ you travel with ice harvesters as a child? Why didn’t you live in an Arendelle orphanage?”

Kristoff just shrugs. “Because there isn’t one.”

Anna’s jaw drops and Elsa looks a combination of surprised and uncomfortable, both of the women falling silent for several long moments, seemingly at a loss for words.

“There _isn’t_ one?” Anna speaks up first, her voice incredulous, “Not anywhere in our entire kingdom?”

“No. But, to be fair, it’s not like there are a lot of displaced kids in Arendelle.”

“But when there _are_ ,” Anna says, her voice rising with her building emotions, “When it _does_ come up, and there are parents who can’t take care of their baby, or a kid whose parents _die_ ,” Elsa and Kristoff both wince a bit at that, and the waver in Anna’s voice speaks for itself, “We don’t have anywhere for them to go?”

Kristoff presses his lips together in a tight frown, unable to find the words to ease her mind. Admittedly, it does bother him, too— the thought of other children growing up without homes, and perhaps not ending up as fortunate as he did. (Trolls they may be, but they’re his _family,_ all the same.)

“I feel awful, for not even knowing.” Elsa says, her voice quiet and eyes pensive. 

“Up until a few months ago, you two spent your entire lives inside the castle walls. It’s not your fault that you don’t know every inch of Arendelle yet.” Kristoff says, looking at the two downtrodden sisters, and hoping to assuage some of their guilt.

“But we can _change_ that, right?” Anna asks, though her voice leaves little room for argument. “We could create a place where kids can be safe. Somewhere that they can stay until they find home and families, somewhere they don’t have to be _alone_ anymore.”

None of them seem seem inclined to disagree.

* * *

  
  


It’s a fairly small thing, Arendelle’s Home for Children, but it’s plenty homey, with plush blankets on warm beds, and boxes full of toys, and a view of the fjord through the dining room window. It’s located right outside the castle gates, too, which makes overseeing the building process all the easier. (They all play a role in it’s creation, Kristoff helps with a lot of the hands-on work, Elsa oversees the plans, and Anna is the creative force behind it all, offering ideas and helping in any way she can.)

The demand for an orphanage was not immense, but it's a cause that proves itself more than necessary.

This rings particularly true, when it hasn't even been a week after they finish painting the outer walls, and they are approached by a woman, tears rolling down her face, a young toddler in her arms. A child that is not hers, but her brother’s, who went out for what was supposed to be a two-day trek into the mountains and failed to return alive, and she simply _can’t_ raise the boy herself anymore, she’s sorry, so _sorry--_

(It isn't long at all before a couple-- two lovely women, both skilled blacksmiths-- tentatively come into the Home. They’ve wanted a child of their own for years now, and considering the way the couple’s eyes well up with tears when the two tiny hands reach up toward them, Anna, Elsa and Kristoff all have no doubt they made the right decision.)

* * *

  
  


As time passes, the amount of children in the Home ebbs and flows— thankfully, they’ve rarely had more than five residents at any given time, and in the two whole years since it’s been open, they’ve said tearful farewells to almost a dozen children who’ve found happy homes with new parents.

Turns out, there are kids in Arendelle who need a safe place to live, but there are also plenty of couples-- same-sex couples, or ones who cannot bear children, or individuals who simply want to adopt a child into their life-- who are equally grateful for the opportunity to expand their family.

It may be far from a lucrative business, but it’s brought them far more fulfillment than _any_ amount of coin could.

* * *

When they first opened Arendelle’s Home for Children, Gerda had offered her assistance in running the place. Anna, who remembered how kind she was to her as a child, knew she’d be as good a fit as any. And now, coming up on two and a half years into the endeavor, it still rings true. However, while Gerda remains the primary live-in caretaker, the royal family’s presence has been _far_ from absent.

Kristoff spends a fair amount of time down in the Home, often bringing Sven, who happily brays and lets the kids hang off his antlers, or ride on his back. He can’t help but talk _for_ Sven, too, which almost always makes the younger children giggle and squeal in delight. 

There’s one little girl there, Sylvi, with pale skin and tangled blonde hair, who mostly keeps to herself— she’s nonverbal, and hasn’t quite warmed up to any of them yet, curling away from any sort of physical contact. 

(They’re not sure if she was born that way, or if it’s a coping mechanism, or some combination of both. They know next to nothing about her past, but they’ll do everything they can to ensure her a happy future.) 

She still remains rather closed-off, despite being at the Home for a few months now. But then, on a crisp Spring morning, something incredible happens-- Kristoff breaks out in Sven’s voice, and Sylvi’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. She smiles-- the _very first_ smile they’ve seen cross her face in all the time she’s been there-- and she wanders over to bury her hands happily in the thick texture of the reindeer’s fur. It’s the most progress they’ve seen her make thus far, and Kristoff has never felt _prouder_.

Meanwhile, Anna spends any free time she has at the Home, too-- enthusiastically telling the kids stories of her adventures, (usually with Olaf at her side, reenacting the scenes with _equal_ enthusiasm.) And she’s almost _always_ bringing the kids more toys.  
  
(“Your highness, how many times must I insist there are already too many toys to keep the place tidy!”   
  
“Oh, come on Gerda, how am I supposed to be considered a kind and generous princess if I don’t spoil my favorite little Arendellians! Plus, Kristoff and I already started building them bigger toy boxes, don’t worry.”) 

There’s a boy there, Fredrik, with wild curly locks and a gap-toothed grin, who always runs and flings himself into Anna’s arms. He, too, always has a new story to tell— of he and the other kids playing pirates, or this baby rabbit he saw in the woods, or the way he _swears_ there’s a sea monster in the fjord. Sometimes he’ll stop himself mid-sentence, as though realizing he’s rambling, and stumbles over an apology-- in a way that feels painfully familiar to Anna. But she’ll be damned if she makes a child feel any of the same inadequacy she did.   
  
With a shake of her head and a smile, she’ll urge him on, “Well, don’t leave me hanging! You’ve _gotta_ tell me what happened next!” 

The way his face always brightens in response is worth more than anything in the world. 

Elsa stops by frequently, as well— though at first it had taken her a bit longer to get used to being around children, mostly due to the fear she still wasn’t fully in control of her powers. Once she had begun to visit, though, the children quickly grew on her, and she’ll often make them little flurries and piles of snow to play in during the hot summer months. There’s an older girl in her late teens, named Runa— who starts to sit next to Elsa while the younger children play. Runa is mostly blind, but she often requests little ice sculptures from Elsa, a smile always gracing her face as she runs her fingers along the frigid curves of each figurine.   
  
Of course, they have plenty of wooden toys that could serve the same purpose. So one day, Elsa can't help but to ask, “Doesn’t the cold bother you?” 

  
  
Runa shrugs, “I’ve never minded it.” 

Perhaps it’s not so much the ice figurines she enjoys, as much as it is the company and kindness of another.

* * *

Of course, all the children who have come into the Home hold special places in each of their hearts. It’s a complicated sort of love, as every farewell they have is a bittersweet one (it means they’ll see the child far less, if at all-- but it means they've found a real home, which is so, _so_ good.) 

And on a similar vein, every child they watch get passed up by potential families breaks their hearts. 

* * *

  
  


It's Autumn when a _lot_ changes in an incredibly short span of time. By the time the dust fully settles in Arendelle, Anna’s both engaged and coronated as Queen, Elsa lives in the Enchanted Forest with the Northuldra, and there’s an entire chunk of their kingdom’s history that needs retelling. For Anna, in particular, the queendom comes incredibly natural to her— but the journey it took to get there, the mass of secrets their family kept, holding Olaf as he perished, the gripping fear that she was truly _alone_ , followed by nearly dying on the dam-- well, _that_ all is a bit harder to come to terms with. 

Eventually, though, things calm down enough for them to fall back in to a _mostly_ normal routine, and they waste no time visiting the Home regularly once more. There, they find a couple new residents, and, unfortunately-- three familiar faces who’ve yet to find homes.

Sylvi, despite most families passing her by, makes great strides-- she warms up to Kristoff through her comfort around Sven, and begins to trust the sisters, too. Elsa, with her calm and composed demeanor, seems to put her at ease. And Anna, though far more excitable than her sister in nature, is always careful to not to overstimulate or stress the child out. Eventually, the first time Sylvi makes proper eye contact with someone is with Anna, her curious little eyes becoming absolutely _fixated_ on the princess’s face as she tells her a story. The little one doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing it, and yet it takes Anna all the willpower she can muster to stay focused on the tale she’s weaving, and not start to cry right then and there.

Fredrik, meanwhile, is a lovebug with just about everyone, as outgoing as ever and never seeming to run low on energy. He loves nature, always asking to ride Sven, or picking up little snails off the cobblestone path and moving them to safety, or doodling different plants he finds throughout the town. He can almost always be found running around playing with Olaf, or dragging the other children into games, or asking Kristoff and Anna to take him on hikes, or running headfirst into a snow pile Elsa made-- (to which she quickly has to add extra snow to cushion him from hitting the ground beneath, and dear _gods_ , these children will never fail to keep their reflexes sharp.) 

Elsa, although no longer living there, still visits Arendelle rather frequently. While it’s their family game night that keeps her coming back weekly, she makes time to visit the Home, as well. Despite it being a regular occurrence, Runa’s face never fails to light up when she hears Elsa’s voice. It always makes her heart feel full-- that is, until the day Gerda pulls her aside and shares that they haven’t had many potential adopters, lately, and those that _do_ visit are almost never interested in Runa. 

“Beyond being blind, she’s nearly an adult, in most people’s eyes.” Gerda tells her in a whisper, her voice thick with sadness. “And I fear she may not find a family before that day comes.” 

It sticks with Elsa, the words ringing in her ears and refusing to grant her peace. She feels like it’s the siren’s call all over again, something nagging in the back of her mind, except instead of being mysterious and exciting, it’s an echo of a far more _grim_ reality. She returns to the Enchanted Forest that night, and it’s several weeks before she visits the orphanage again.

“You came back!” Runa exclaims when she returns, “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“Quite the opposite, actually, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. There’s something I need to speak to you about.” A sharp breath, and then: “How would you feel about coming to live with me and the Northuldra?”

* * *

  
  


A few more months pass, and while the newest children have come and gone from their system in nearly record time, Sylvi and Fredrik still remain. It’s just the two of them in the Home now, and with the holidays only days away, it doesn’t appear they’ll find homes before the new year.

As a result, Kristoff and Anna, in addition to the time they spend with them during the day, have taken to inviting the kids for dinner with them in the castle, most nights.  
  
(“They deserve to eat in a proper home, you know?”  
  
“Of course, and I’m sure Gerda will enjoy having the afternoon off--”   
  
“Right, and Fredrik didn’t get a chance to finish telling us about how he saved that baby bird!”

“And really, no child deserves to feel alone this time of year.”)

  
  


It’s not the first time they’ve all eaten in the castle together, but there’s something about the way Sylvi erupts into a fit of loud giggles when Fredrik puts a carrot up his nose to imitate Olaf, or the way Kristoff feigns shock to amuse the kids each time he looks away only to find more and more brussel sprouts being snuck onto his plate, or the way Fredrik, with a belly already full of hearty food, looks at the dessert tray being brought in and says, “Man, I _love_ you guys.” 

The moments are happy ones, and yet Anna’s chest _aches_ while watching how well these two children seem to settle into their everyday life. The Home would continue to keep them safe and comfortable, yes, but it’s still not… well, _a home_.

The short trek back to the orphanage that night is a heavy one, as they know the kids need to be back in their own beds, but find that it’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye each time. Sylvi tucks her nose into the crook of Anna’s neck as she carries her, no longer terrified of touch as she once was (at least, not from Kristoff and Anna.) And Fredrik sits on Kristoff’s shoulders, his boundless energy finally waning as his eyes droop closed. 

They tuck them in and say their goodnights, returning home to a castle that suddenly feels far too empty.

* * *

  
  


It’s only a few hours later, when Kristoff and Anna decide to retire to their room for the night. The two of them are quietly getting ready for bed when Kristoff speaks up, his voice tentative. 

“Anna, do you, _uh--_ do you still want to have kids?” 

“I do. Why? Wait, are you having second thoughts—“

“No, _no_ , definitely not! I still do too. I really do.”

Anna watches him, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with his hair as she waits patiently for him to get to the point he’s clearly trying to build toward. He takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you want only... biological children?”

Her heart swells as it occurs to her where he’s heading with this, and she wonders how she got so _lucky,_ to find someone whose soul aligns so perfectly with her own.

“Not at all," Anna says, and _oh_ , she can already feel the tears building in her eyes, "I’d be happy raising a child with you, _however_ they come into our life.” 

“So say there was a boy with curly hair and a kind heart, as feisty as you, to slide down the bannisters with--”

“Or maybe a little blonde like you, who trusts us more than anyone, quiet but brave as can be, who comes out of her shell more and more every _day--_ ”

“Or both?” He asks with a sheepish, yet oh-so radiant grin, and Anna mirrors it tenfold. 

“Yeah. Both sounds good to me.”


End file.
